ATSB Thursday Challenges
by JudasFm
Summary: A collection of short stories based on the ATSB Thursday Challenges.
1. Music Challenge

"Hannibal, I can't _believe_ you're making me do this!"

The colonel raised his eyebrows, an innocent look on his face. "You lost the bet, kid. Pay up."

Face glared at him. "I _said_ I'd buy you a drink! I never said you could drag me along to a karaoke bar! I can't even sing!"

"Well, neither can anyone else I've heard so far, so you'll fit right in." Hannibal drained his beer and grinned at the lieutenant. "You can't be any worse than her."

'Her' was a woman on the wrong side of forty who was under the unfortunate impression that dressing like she was seventeen would automatically made everyone believe that she _was_ seventeen. She was currently singing _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_ in a voice that was a semitone sharp on all but the high notes, when she somehow went flat and about half an octave too high. Face had always liked that song as a kid (although he'd never told anyone that) and listening to this woman butcher it was like rescuing a cute, big-eyed puppy from the pound and then standing back to watch someone else kick it to death.

Face shook his head. "No. Forget it. I'm not doing it. No way."

"Face, if you don't do it, I have nothing better to do than sit here all night and embarrass you in front of any sweet young things who might want to become better acquainted with you."

"That's better than me embarrassing _myself_ in front of everyone!"

"If you say so, kid."

One of the sweet young things in question sashayed over to their table, smiling at Face. "Hi. D'you wanna dance?"

Before Face had a chance to reply, Hannibal took hold of his hand and said in a camp voice, "Oh, that's very kind of you, darling, but we're together."

"_Hannibal_!" Face attempted to yank his hand free. The colonel's grip was too strong, however, and so he settled for looking at the girl. "Look, he's just—"

Too late. The table was empty, and worse, they were now getting a few looks from the other nice young girls in the place.

Face groaned, glaring at Hannibal, who was now grinning broadly. "Oh, I am gonna kill you!"

"Ah. Well, in that case, I get a last request. And my last request is to hear you belting out a tune." Hannibal released the lieutenant's hand and patted it. "Hit it, kid!"

From the look on his face, Face was sorely tempted to hit Hannibal instead.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you lost the bet," Hannibal repeated in too-patient tones. It was the tenth time they'd had this conversation.

There was no obvious way out and Face groaned again. "I get to pick the song, right?"

Hannibal shrugged. "Sure." He waited until Face had got up from the table before adding, "So long as it's an ABBA number."

Face sat down again with a bump. "_What_? Hannibal, I think you're overreacting a little, I mean, c'_mon—_"

"Face, you said that if I could go twenty four hours without a cigar, you'd buy me a drink in any pub, restaurant or bar I chose. And you can't come to a karaoke bar and not sing."

"I never said anything about singing!" Face glanced around for an escape route and found none. "And I _really_ never said you could pick the song!"

"I know. I'm saying it now. As Shakespeare once put it, if music be the food of love, sing on. Besides, women _love_ a guy who can sing."

Face glared at him. "Correction, Hannibal, women love a guy who can sing _in tune_. The ones who can't – ie, _me_ – just get laughed at!"

"You're too modest, Face. I've heard you sing before now. You have a pretty good voice." Hannibal grinned. "Whatever you think, we're not leaving here until you get up on that stage and do a number."

Face closed his eyes. "An ABBA number?"

"Exactly."

"Can't I do Rolling Stones or Beatles or—"

"No, but you can pick one of the male songs."

Face opened his eyes again and glared at Hannibal. "Oh, great! Well, that narrows it down to about three!" His voice was a little too loud. Heads turned and the lieutenant cringed. "Anyway, they probably don't have any of them on the jukebox, and I am _not_ singing _anything_ without a) music and b) words! If I'm gonna humiliate myself like this, _I'm_ gonna pick the song!"

"Alright, alright." Hannibal finished his drink. Like all good military commanders, he knew when to give ground. "You pick the song."

"Right..." Face got to his feet and walked over to the machine, trying not to look too conspicuous. Most of the numbers were love ballads, and while Face didn't mind crooning out one of those, he couldn't bring himself to do it now that the sweet young thing he'd had his eye on was firmly convinced he and Hannibal were an item...and that she'd told what looked like half the bar.

_Yeah, if I sing a love song, they're just gonna think it's for him_.

Taking out the heavy metal and rap numbers, that just left him with one choice. Face selected the song, swallowed hard and climbed up on the stage.

A bass line started throbbing out of the speaker and Face started to sing.

"_Sweet dreams are made of this..._"

It was probably the worst three minutes of his life, Face thought grimly as he stepped off the stage, worse even than the Canada Goose Incident. True, they were applauding, but most of the people were so drunk by now that they'd have applauded if he'd recited the Gettysburg Address to the tune of the Alphabet Song.

He did have the satisfaction of seeing Hannibal look a little taken aback, though, which went some way towards assuaging the embarrassment.

"Well, that...wasn't exactly what I was expecting, Face."

"Whatever. Can we just _go_?"

"Sure kid. Just let me finish my drink."

Face grabbed Hannibal's drink and drained it in a single gulp, then hauled the colonel to his feet. "Alright! You've finished it! Now let's get out of here before anyone we know sees us!" He seized Hannibal's wrist, realised how that would look to an outsider and dropped it as though he'd been burned.

"Okay. Okay." Hannibal held up his hands in surrender. "I was right though."

"About what?" Face's voice was strained. The sweet young thing and her friends were now employing that most diabolical of female tactics guaranteed to drive any man insane: namely looking, whispering and giggling, and the lieutenant just wanted to forget this night had ever happened.

The colonel grinned. "Well, you weren't any worse than Dorothy's grandmother back there."

He led the way out the bar and through the parking lot towards the van, followed by a seething Face, and it wasn't until they'd actually started up the engine that Hannibal realised something.

"Damn, I forgot my jacket!"

"_What_?" Face stared at him. Surely...no, not even _Hannibal_ could expect him to go back in there and get it!

Hannibal chuckled. "Relax, kid, I'll go. You just stay here and keep an eye out."

"Right..." It says something for Face's state of mind that he was sorely tempted to accelerate away and leave Hannibal behind the instant the colonel shut the door.

_Except since it's only a half hour's walk, that wouldn't be much of a revenge, would it_? something inside him whispered.

Face looked around to make sure Hannibal wasn't coming back, then picked up the phone, dialled a number and spoke in a low voice.

"Murdock, this is Face."

"Faceman! How's it goin' with you an' Hannibal?"

"Oh, fine, fine. You know what he said to me?"

"'I love it when a plan comes together'?"

"Besides that." Face glanced over his shoulder to make sure Hannibal was still in the bar, then lowered his voice anyway. "He was telling me that he's been feeling a lot better since his last cigar. He wants to try and give up smoking altogether."

"Hey, that's great!"

Face felt a twinge of guilt at Murdock's delight, but ploughed on. "Yeah, but he told me that if he came back and saw any cigars lying around, it might weaken his resolve. So he asked me to ask _you_ to take every cigar in the place and throw them out. You mind?"

"'Course not, buddy."

Face's grin broadened. "Oh, that's great. That's wonderful. Thanks Murdock. You're a real pal."

Of course, there were likely to be one or two problems when Hannibal tried to have his morning cigar, but that was tomorrow and at the moment – Face turned on the radio and hummed along – tomorrow was a long way off...

**Okay. I'm hoping to update this once a week with all the Thursday challenges. Not sure if it's going to be possible, but that's the general plan :)**


	2. A Supremely Bad Idea

**trauma - Thanks :)**

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"_FACE_!"

The bellow shattered the dawn and woke not just me, but everyone else in a two mile radius.

I snuggled deeper into my bed, pulling the covers up around my ears and curling up into a little ball. Maybe if Hannibal saw me sleeping so peacefully, he'd relent and let me keep sleeping until my alarm went off at half seven, by which time he'd have had about an hour and a half to calm down.

This rather stupid hope lasted until my bedroom door was kicked open and I heard Hannibal storm in. At least, I assumed it was Hannibal. I'd just buried my face in my pillow, eyes closed and was busy pretending to be asleep.

"_FACE_!"

There was no way he'd believe I slept through that, I realised. Even _BA_ couldn't sleep through that yell, especially when it was six inches away from his ear.

I winced, yawned and opened my eyes a crack, smiling sleepily.

"You say something, Hannibal?"

"On your feet, lieutenant! Move it!"

I yawned again. "Ah, Hannibal, it's six am, can't you come back la—"

The rest of my protest was lost in a squawk as Hannibal seized my mattress and yanked it up, spilling me onto the ground.

"NOW!" He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

Pushing myself to my feet, I came face to face with a grinning Murdock, who I'd been stupid enough to share a room with.

"Ooh, Faceman. Looks like you gonna get _grounded_. Maybe he'll even dock your allowance."

"Funny, Murdock." I hunted around for something to throw on before another angry yell from Hannibal prompted me to snatch up a discarded t-shirt and pull it over my head, barely noticing it was a) inside-out and b) back to front.

I opened the door and started through it, only to find Murdock right behind me. Pausing, I glared over my shoulder at him.

"You know, you really don't have to come."

"I know, buddy." Murdock patted my shoulder. "I want to. It's called _loyalty_, Faceman."

"No, it's called _curiosity_. You just wanna know why Hannibal's so cheesed off with me."

"Aw, Face, I'm gonna find that out anyway. The colonel's been yellin' so loudly the whole neighbourhood's gonna know!"

Right on cue, Hannibal's bellow came through again.

"_LIEUTENANT_!"

Groaning, I made my way into the lounge, where Hannibal was standing with arms folded.

"Lieutenant. Would you be so kind as to pass me a cigar?"

I hate it when he gets polite.

"Uh...well, you see...um...now's, well, not really a good time..." Great. So much for being the guy who could talk his way out of a room with no doors. For some reason (I never figured out why) Hannibal's the only person I've never been able to lie to.

"Oh? And why might that be?"

I put on my most charming smile and spread my arms to the side. "Well, see, it's, uh, kinda hard to explain, Hannibal."

"Oh, I see." Still that same silky politeness. That wasn't good. When Hannibal's as polite as that, it means he's about half a nanosecond away from going nuclear. "Well, perhaps I can help you out, Face."

He moved forward. I moved back, but not quickly enough; he slung a friendly arm around my shoulders and went on in the same sweet tones.

"Now would you, by any chance, remember a certain bar we visited last night?"

"You mean the karaoke bar? Where you forced me to get up on stage and _sing_?" The memory of this was still enough to make me squirm.

"Yes, that's _right_, Face, the karaoke bar where I forced you to get up on stage and sing, since we bet I couldn't go twenty four hours without a cigar and you lost. And do you remember how I forgot my jacket and had to go back for it?"

"...Yeah."

"Good, good. Now I realise this may be a strange concept to you, lieutenant, but I want you to think and tell me if you _also_ remember making a certain phone call? From the van? To Captain Murdock here?"

I swallowed. I'd known all along this would come back to bite me in the butt. I just hadn't expected it to happen so fast.

"Uh...well, it's kind of a blur, Hannibal, I think I blacked a lot of it out—"

"Lieutenant." Oh God, he was smiling now. For those of you unfamiliar with A-Team math, the equation goes something like this: Hannibal + Sweet Smile + Sweet Voice = Total Annihilation For Some Poor Sap.

"Yes, colonel."

"And do you, by any chance, remember what you asked Captain Murdock to do?"

I pasted an innocent look on my face. "Gee, Hannibal, I can't remember asking him to do anything—"

"Oh, sure you did, Faceman!" Murdock chipped in. "You called me an' said that Hannibal was feelin' so good after givin' up cigars for twenty four hours that he was gonna try an' give 'em up for good, and you asked me to go through the place and throw out every cigar to help him stick to it."

I groaned. "Thanks Murdock. Thanks a _lot._"

"Sure, buddy."

"Face, would you step into the kitchen with me? I'd like a word."

I smiled brightly. "Oh, Hannibal, can't we do it out here? Now? Where there's witnesses?"

"The kitchen, lieutenant. Now."

I had just enough time to hiss, "Cover me!" to Murdock as I trailed after Hannibal into the small kitchen. Note to self: next time I scam living quarters for the Team on a job, pick an open-plan apartment.

"I just wanna remind you that murder's still illegal in the US," I said quickly, before Hannibal could get a word out. "If you kill me, you'll have every cop in the country after you."

Hannibal's smile broadened. "Ah. And compared to the last ten years, that would be different...how exactly?"

Candidly, I had no idea and edged away, wondering what my chances were of catching him by surprise and getting out the door before he could catch me. Probably not good. I was faster than him, but he'd positioned himself between me and the door and I wasn't fast enough to get past him, open the door and go through it before he grabbed me.

Watching me, Hannibal shook his head. "Face, Face, _Face_. Anyone would think I was going to do something nasty to you."

"Aren't you?"

"Of course not." That damn smile was still on his face. "Not when you can do it for me."

I felt a chill run through my body. The thing about Hannibal is that it's not just his plans that are unorthodox; he has an original (and nasty) streak in him when it comes to punishment details as well.

"What, uh..." I swallowed, tried again. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I thought that maybe you could keep an eye on one or two things while I nip out to the store and buy some more cigars. With your money, of course."

I was stupid enough to think he was letting me off lightly and so I nodded. "Oh yeah, Hannibal! Sure!"

"That's great, kid. Really _great_." He patted me on the shoulder. "Sophie'll be here at eight. You can keep an eye on her while I'm out."

My voice shot up a full octave and about ninety decibels. "_Sophie_? Coming _here_?"

There was a clatter and scrambling sound from outside the kitchen door, such as might be made by one HM Murdock beating a very hasty retreat. Seconds later the door to the apartment opened and shut.

I should probably explain at this point. Sophie is the eight year old daughter of our latest client, a rich (very rich) father who's concerned his ex-wife is going to grab her and use her to increase the divorce settlement. After we'd met Sophie, I pointed out – as the Team's expert on women – that he could probably take comfort in the fact that no woman was stupid enough to take a kid like _that_ one hostage, no matter how much money was involved.

Sophie is a difficult child. Her father calls her a gifted child who needs careful and sensitive handling. I call her a spoiled little brat who needs a slap and a time out, and I don't think I ought to tell you what I heard Hannibal call her.

Now, don't get me wrong. Usually I like kids. I mean, they're not trying to scam me, they don't expect me to shell out on expensive gifts for them (at least, not unless they're Sophie) and they're not trying to kill us either.

Sophie, on the other hand, talks to me and Hannibal like we're her own personal slaves, will have absolutely nothing to do with Murdock on the grounds of 'he's so stupid' and...well, she does treat BA with a little more respect, but so does everyone else.

To summarise, I couldn't think of anything I'd like less than playing servant to a brat who screams her lungs out and throws things if anyone so much as _thinks_ the word 'no'.

"Yeah. BA's driving me to the store, Murdock's coming along with me and Sophie's dad's at a business meeting all this morning, so I told him we'd be only too happy to look after Daddy's little darling."

I knew I'd lost, but there was enough of me to go out fighting.

"Okay, but can't I at _least_ look after Daddy's little darling in Daddy's big, multi-million dollar mansion complete with a pool?"

"No; his ex-wife'll be expecting that. He's dropping her off here on his way to the meeting." Hannibal's grin was now so broad he was having trouble getting his words out. "Don't worry, though. Me and the others'll be back this afternoon."

"This _afternoon_?"

"Yeah, such a shame. The nearest place I can buy cigars is a couple towns over. It'll take at _least_ two and a half hours to get there."

"Hannibal, you can't leave me here with the brat of hell for _five hours_!"

"Five hours? I'm not leaving her with you for five hours, Face. I'm leaving her with you for six, seven, maybe eight hours."

"You can't!"

He chuckled. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What's that?"

"_I'm your commanding officer, lieutenant_!" Colonel mode. _Pissed_ colonel mode.

"I know, but Hannibal, this is...this is cruel and unusual punishment! It's a direct violation of my constitutional rights!"

"Well, that's more original than most of your excuses, Face, but it's not going to work." Hannibal smiled again and put his arm around my shoulders. "So what did we learn...?"

I gave him an anguished look that wasn't just down to the prospect of a visit from Sophie. I've never been comfortable with physical contact from other men, even men I know.

"That telling Murdock to throw out all your cigars was a bad idea?"

"Yes, yes it was, kid. A supremely bad idea." Hannibal released me and moved away. "Now, Murdock's already gone, as you probably heard, so I'm gonna get BA and we'll be back for what's left of you this afternoon."

He paused in the door, looked over his shoulder at me and added, "Just so you know, Face, I won't think any the less of you if you cry."

I glared at him. "Oh, you'd _love_ that, wouldn't you?"

"No. But I wouldn't hold it against you. See you later, kid."

He sauntered out and I had to restrain myself from throwing something after him. If I did _that_, I'd get stuck with Sophie for the next twenty four hours.

I picked up an apple and took a bite. Not that I was hungry, but I was going to need to keep my strength up.

At seven forty five, the doorbell rang twice, and then a third time when I didn't immediately break my legs trying to answer it.

"Well, _you_ took a long time!" Sophie pushed past me and marched into the apartment. "It's so _small_! I _hate_ it here!"

I glanced around for her father, but he was already halfway down the stairs. With a sigh, I closed the front door and turned to see Sophie flipping through the channels in search of cartoons.

Hannibal was going to pay for this, I thought grimly. In blood. With interest.

All the same, I thought it would probably be a good idea to leave his cigars alone this time...

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**Okay, I hadn't intended to follow on from the last challenge but this seemed like too perfect a subject not to ;) Hope you liked it and if you read, please review!**


	3. The Chivalrous Thing

**Annie:** Yes, it would, if this was one continuous story. It's not; like the summary says, each chapter is a short story in itself. Some will be third person, others first.

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Bungee jumping.

Dear God, why does Hannibal do this to me? I mean, seriously, why? Camping out, I can understand; rock climbing, I can understand, but bungee jumping? What's he planning to do, dive down, grab a kidnap victim and bounce back up with her to safety before the bad guys have time to shoot him?

Well, I guess it would have the element of surprise.

That thought made me grin. Not for very long, though, since I knew Hannibal well enough to know that he'd do exactly that if he thought it would work.

"Hannibal? Do I really have to do this?"

"Yes, Face, you do." There was a curt note in Hannibal's voice that hadn't been there the last seven times I'd asked this question.

"But—"

"Face, you had to do it when you asked me this morning, you had to do it on the drive over, you have to do it now and you'll _still_ have to do it in five minutes time when you ask me again! I've done it. BA's done it. Murdock's done it. There's only you left."

I looked around for salvation and my gaze fell on Amy – beautiful, wonderful, sweet, darling Amy, source of my salvation! – and I pointed at her.

"Amy hasn't done it! I mean, come on, Hannibal, she wanted to be a part of the Team, so she oughta take part in the training."

Amy, who had been grinning at the banter between us, froze. "What?"

"Exactly!" Now it looked like I might be able to avoid tying a rubber band around my feet and hurling myself into space, I wasn't about to give up. "You're playing favorites, Hannibal, and that's not a good quality in a leader."

It's always a little risky taunting him about his leadership skills, but the worst he could do to me was throw me off himself...I checked the body harness and cord around my ankles, just in case.

Hannibal glanced at Amy. "You know, he has a point."

"Hannibal—"

"You wanted to join up, you got it. The only question is whether you or Face go  
first."

Before Amy had a chance to answer, I stepped forward. Even a short delay was good. Maybe Decker would show up and I wouldn't have to jump.

"Well, Hannibal, you know I pride myself on good manners. So, as an officer and a gentleman, I'll do the noble thing."

Amy smiled at me. "Face. That's really sweet."

I smiled back. "Don't mention it, Amy. I mean, I know we've had our differences from time to time, but come on, chivalry isn't dead yet."

That said, I felt compelled to make good on my word, and so I moved away from her and did the chivalrous thing.

"Ladies first."


	4. Bumper Stickers

"No!"

"BA." Hannibal's voice, while not angry, had a definite edge in it that said crossing him at that point would be a very bad idea. "Murdock's worked hard on these."

"I said NO!" The sergeant folded his arms, scowling. "I ain't puttin' it on my wheels!"

"I put it on mine." Hannibal pointed at his car as Exhibit A.

Murdock's latest form of therapy at the VA hospital involved designing bumper stickers. Quite what brainiac had thought up that idea, Hannibal wasn't sure, but Murdock had loved it and proudly presented every member of the Team with their own personalised bumper sticker. Covering half the rear bumper of Hannibal's car was the legend _I Love It When A Plan Comes Together!_ surrounded by a camouflage border.

"So did Face," the colonel added, when BA looked poised to argue again.

That had taken a little more persuasion – ordinarily Face refused to consider doing anything to change the appearance of his beloved 'Vette – but his friendship with Murdock had eventually won out. The lieutenant had drawn the line at _Honk If You're Sexy And Single_, not because he didn't like it, but because the word _female_ had been omitted, but he'd agreed to the others and his car now bore the slogans _Born Free – Now I'm Expensive_, and _I Only Stop For Beautiful Women_, both with scalloped and gilt edges.

"I don't care! I ain't doin' it, Hannibal!"

Hannibal pointed his cigar at BA, the glowing end so close that the sergeant could feel the heat.

"You _will _do it, Sergeant, because you still owe Murdock for the helicopter fiasco on our last mission."

"Hey, man, that was an accident!"

The colonel stared at him hard until BA started to squirm before speaking. "Enlighten me, Sergeant. How exactly does one go about _accidentally_ rigging a small, remote controlled explosive underneath a helicopter's gas tank at three AM?"

"We didn't fly." Much like Hannibal's _my cigars were in danger_ claim, not flying was used by BA to justify anything and everything short of first degree murder.

"Murdock's just about forgiven you for that, he made you the bumper sticker as a peace offering and you _will_ accept it! That's an order."

"It'll make the van stand out. People're gonna notice it!"

Hannibal sighed. "Right, BA, because everyone's driving a grey, black and red van with tinted windows these days." He shook his head. "You haven't even seen it, and I don't care what you say; that bumper sticker is going on the van!"

"No, it ain't!" It was rare for BA to defy Hannibal to this extent (except when it came to flying) but this was going beyond the call of duty. Defacing the A-Team van was like a medieval knight painting hearts and flowers on his warhorse. It was an insult to a noble steed...or vehicle, in this case.

Behind Hannibal, Face appeared from behind the van, saw BA and promptly ducked out of sight again. That alone was enough to send the sergeant onto red alert. He hadn't thought to get the sticker off Murdock, hadn't thought to...

"HEY! FACE!"

The lieutenant poked a cautious head around the van, wearing his best innocent expression.

"Oh. Hi, BA. I, uh, I've just been helping Murdock with the...yeah," he added, as BA pushed past him hard enough to send him staggering.

It was just as well the van had no rear windows, Hannibal thought as he followed BA and caught sight of Murdock's second finest effort (the finest being the giant yellow smiley face he'd painted on the van a month or so back).

Unlike Hannibal's new bumper sticker, though, BA's ran across the entire width of the van halfway up, at a perfect eye level for any driver behind. Emblazoned across it in huge black letters were the words: I AM A BIG ANGRY MUDSUCKER! PLEASE RAM ME! (With Extreme Prejudice!)

Hannibal blew out cigar smoke, unable to suppress a grin. It looked like Murdock hadn't forgiven the helicopter fiasco after all...

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**Okay...just a little bit of fun, but I've had it sitting on my laptop for a while now and thought it was high time I uploaded them ;) More will be along...at some point...**


	5. I'd Rather Be Crazy

Decker thought he was going mad.

He'd been seeing glimpses of Hannibal Smith all day around the camp, glimpses that vanished whenever he looked directly at them. And it _was_Smith, no doubt about it; Decker knew that man's face almost as well as he knew his own. The same wolfish grin, that damn chirpy look...either Smith's ghost had decided to haunt him or he was going insane.

Unfortunately, since Decker didn't believe in ghosts, that only left one other option.

_I'm __losing __my __mind._

That wasn't a pleasant thought.

Maybe it was time for a vacation. Decker rarely took leave – the only person he visited was his younger sister, and she'd died twenty years ago – but still...a break might do him good.

The door to his office opened and a soldier walked in. Not just any soldier, but a full general in dress uniform.

Colonel Decker?"

Decker got to his feet and saluted. "Yes sir."

"At ease, Colonel, at ease. I just came by to borrow a pen."

"A...pen, sir?" Colonels didn't question generals in the grand scheme of things, but generals didn't often call on colonels to borrow pens either.

"Yes, a pen. I have some very important documents that need signing."

"Oh...well...here, sir." Decker picked up a pen and handed it to the general.

"Thank you. Might I use your office?"

That really wasn't general-like behavior. Generals ordered; they never asked permission, and they _certainly_never asked permission from a colonel.

Still, the man did have a military bearing about him, and you couldn't fake that. Maybe the old guy was just a little eccentric.

"Yes sir." Decker started to leave, but the man raised a hand.

"No need; this'll only take a minute." He turned his head. "Colonel!"

Hannibal Smith strolled in, also wearing full officer's regalia, and smiled at Decker.

"Hello CD. How's tricks?" He nodded at the general, who was now signing three official looking documents. "Stockwell."

Decker sat down again, hard. The action didn't look entirely voluntary.

"What..."

"Well, Decker? Aren't you even gonna say hello?" Hannibal's grin was now so wide he was having difficulty getting his words out.

"Here you are, Colonel." Stockwell signed the final paper with, it has to be confessed, a slight flourish, then handed it to Hannibal and saluted him. "An official and full – not to mention long overdue – pardon for you and your men. The President has asked me to convey his regrets for the damage done to your reputations over this regrettable incident, and as we discussed earlier, suitable compensation will be arranged, along with promotions followed by immediate retirement for all four of you and your equally long-overdue pensions. However, since a pardon does imply an admission of guilt, there will also be a press release on national television clearing you of the crime you were so unjustly accused of all those years ago."

Hannibal returned the salute. "Thanks, General. Oh, one more thing; you might want to send someone in here with a winch to close Decker's mouth."

"Of course. You will be hearing from me again, Colonel Smith."

Hannibal grinned. "Anything you say, Stockwell. Just remember what you have to do if you want to use us again."

"Of course," Stockwell said again. "Well, I'm a busy man. I'll leave you alone; I'm sure you have a lot to talk about. You'll be hearing from me soon, Colonel Smith." The general actually smiled, then executed a perfect about-face and strode out.

Hannibal turned his head. "Guys!"

As Decker stared, Face and Murdock strolled in, both with identical grins.

"Long time no see, Colonel," Face remarked, while Murdock wandered around nosily, examining every nook and cranny of Decker's office.

The colonel stared at them, his mind spinning. "I watched you die, Smith! You and your men!"

Hannibal smiled at him. "And I'm sure that helped you sleep better at night, Decker."

"Or do _something_better at night, anyway," Face murmured, not quite under his breath.

Decker ignored this, focusing his attention on Hannibal. "Lieutenant-Colonel—"

"Actually, it's Colonel." Hannibal's smile broadened. "Or did you miss the part about our being promoted? You know, Stockwell was very grateful to us for completing this mission. Oh, and BA says he's sorry he couldn't make this little reunion, but he took his pardon and went to visit his mom for Christmas."

"What did you do?" Decker's voice was very hoarse.

Hannibal feigned nonchalance. "Oh, just some young relative of the general's that we had to rescue from some crazed cult. Strictly under the radar, of course, but it does make a change from the usual run of bad guys. In fact, I don't think we've done a cult since Jamestown."

Decker's fist slammed down onto his desk. "No! I mean how did you escape?"

Face smirked and sat down in the chair opposite Decker, swinging both feet up onto the colonel's desk.

"Now, now. A good magician never reveals his secrets."

"Y'know, that is very true," Murdock remarked, leaving off Decker's files for the time being. "I'm surprised you didn't know that, Decker."

The colonel didn't bother gracing this with an answer; instead he just stared at Hannibal.

"So you finally got your pardons." It was impossible to tell whether he was angry, upset or just stating a fact.

"Well, Stockwell was always going to give us those for completing that mission," Hannibal remarked. "Actually, he was all set to pay us for this one as well, only I told him we'd waive the money if he'd agree to this little ceremony in your office instead—" here he got a look from Face which said that decision hadn't been entirely unanimous— "and he was happy to go along with it. I think he played his part pretty well."

Decker narrowed his eyes. "Well. You got what you want, Smith, so why are you still here?"

"Oh, well, you see, that's the other part of the deal." Hannibal perched on the corner of Decker's desk and blew cigar smoke at him. "Stockwell mentioned he'd have more jobs for us in the future, but we prefer working for the little people, so we put in a clause. If he wants us, he has a week to catch us first. Specifically, _you_have a week to catch us." Hannibal laughed. "It'll be just like old times, Decker, only without the court martial for us at the end."

Decker leaned back in his chair, staring at him. It couldn't have been plainer that he wanted to wipe that cocky smile off Hannibal's face, but even he didn't quite dare. The leader of the A-Team had gone from a fugitive mercenary to someone who was well placed to screw Decker's career up even further. The colonel wasn't naive, whatever his other faults, and he knew that if Hannibal demanded Decker's own head on a plate in exchange for going on another job for Stockwell, the general wouldn't even hesitate before agreeing.

"So when Stockwell says 'jump', I'm supposed to find and detain you without any members of the public watching for you and phoning in your location, without any military or civilian aid?"

Hannibal laughed again. "Decker, you were never able to catch us _with_all those things!" He hopped off the desk and strolled over to the door, followed by Face and Murdock. Pausing, he turned to deliver a jaunty salute. "Be seeing ya."

Decker slumped into his chair.

_So __it __really __was __Smith_.

He wasn't losing his mind. Smith and his Team were still alive...and he'd just been drafted back into chasing them as and when that damn general told him to.

Decker groaned out loud, massaging his forehead.

_Damn__it, __I'd __rather __be __crazy..._

* * *

**Well, this marks the end of the ATSB Thursday Challenges shorts. Not much, I know, but the weekly challenges haven't been issued for quite a long time now, and I wanted to finish on a happy note for the Team. Thanks for reading :D**


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